


The Sun, The Moon and The Truth

by gemjam



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: BAMF Stiles, Declarations Of Love, M/M, Tattoos, Weapons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-03
Updated: 2019-08-03
Packaged: 2020-07-30 14:41:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20098846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gemjam/pseuds/gemjam
Summary: He was told to wait in the car, but Stiles has never been very good at following instructions.





	The Sun, The Moon and The Truth

**Author's Note:**

> For day 2 of Steter week using the prompt _badasses in love._

He was told to wait in the car, but Stiles has never been very good at following instructions. Bat in hand, he walks into the building, just in time to take out a fleeing wendigo with one swing. The thud is immensely satisfying.

When they get back to Derek’s loft, the rain outside has made condensation cloud the windowpanes, making the world feel far away. There’s adrenaline still coursing through Stiles’ veins as he watches Peter walk up to the window, lifting a single finger and drawing a heart onto the misted glass. He doesn’t say anything, but somehow Stiles knows it’s for him.

*

Peter places the box down on top of the book that Stiles is currently trying to read. Stiles looks up at him, making his displeasure known.

“I got you something,” Peter says, sitting down opposite him, no remorse.

Stiles looks at the box again. It does look kind of fancy. He lifts up the lid, his eyes going wide.

“Batarangs!”

“Excuse me?” Peter asks primly. “They’re shuriken, but bat-shaped, because you’re good with bats.”

Stiles grins, looking up at him. “They’re throwing knives, right? Batman has some just like them.”

“Well isn’t that just doubly fitting then,” Peter says, leaning back in his seat.

Stiles narrows his eyes at him, trying to work out if Peter already knew how perfect the gift was, but he dismisses it quickly in favour of staring down at his new shinies.

“You know I can’t actually use these, right?” Stiles says. “I’d probably lose a finger.”

“I can help you learn,” Peter says nonchalantly.

Stiles carefully plucks one of the little bats out, remembering the heart on the window.

*

They share their first kiss the day that Stiles hits his target dead on with his first try. It’s not so much a celebration as an unfurling of emotion that’s built up between them, and they spend the rest of the night thoroughly working through it. Peter has an amazing bed.

The next morning, Stiles has an early class, so he leaves Peter sleeping. He thinks about leaving a note but he’s not great with words. He gathers up his things and then steps out into the cool, still fall morning. He stops, feeling the crispness of it, his breath fogging in front of him.

There are leaves littering the hood of Peter’s car, golden and crisp, and Stiles smirks at how irritated it’s going to make Peter. He steps forward, pushing the leaves around the shiny paintwork, forming them into a heart. Nothing is ever intrinsically good or bad, it’s all in how you look at things.

*

Stiles always keeps his batarangs close, and he’s going to call them that whatever Peter says. He has them stashed away now as they walk down the crumbling stairs at the end of the alleyway, finding the red door that Deaton told them about.

They turn to each other, no words exchanged because they’ve talked this through and they know what their roles are. They kiss, drawing closer together as their mouths open up to one another, and Stiles could do this all day, sometimes he does, but right now they have work to do. He pulls away, sliding his hand down and squeezing Peter’s butt. For good luck.

Stiles enters alone, leaving Peter in the garbage strewn alleyway. Stiles’ batarangs are sharp but his mind is sharper and that’s what’s going to get them what they want here. He talks to the druid, impresses her with his knowledge, builds up an easy rapport and gets them exactly what they need.

Back outside, the jar clutched tightly in his hand, he’s greeted by Peter and _that look._ Well, one of those looks. His eyes follow the line of Peter’s body and sees the spraycan in his hand. Peter looks towards the steps and Stiles follows his gaze.

“So we’re just abandoning all sense of subtlety now?” Stiles asks.

“I think it’s for the best,” Peter says.

“Yeah, probably,” Stiles agrees.

He doesn’t say it back, that’s not why Peter sprayed those words on the steps with some delinquent kid’s leftovers. Stiles’ heart beats faster and his cheeks flush and he goes warm all over. Peter knows all of those things. Stiles doesn’t have to say a word.

*

Stiles knows he’s not supposed to be turned on when Peter growls like that, fangs dropping and eyes flashing blue. Power is hot as fuck though. Right now, Stiles can see it coursing through Peter and he couldn’t be prouder.

Stiles has his batarangs on hand but he doesn’t reach for them, nor does he get offended when Peter pushes him back, clawed hand against his T-shirt, catching slightly on the material before he lifts his fingers away. It’s all about balance. This is Peter’s fight. He’ll happily bow out, just like Peter does when it’s his turn to shine.

*

Stiles is the sun. He’s bright and warm but more dangerous and powerful than people give him credit for. He’s dependable and life-affirming.

Peter is the moon. He can draw people towards him like tides and influence them in ways they can’t resist. He’s ever changing and is no stranger to the dark but he lights the way when it counts.

They get the tattoos on a road trip to pick up a relic for the pack. Stiles doesn’t pass out when the needle scrapes his skin, which he’s incredibly proud of, even if he does cling a little too hard to Peter’s hand. When he burns Peter’s arm with the blowtorch back at the hotel, his vision goes more than a little grey, but it’s worth it to see the sun appearing in dark ink for the second time, this time forever.

They lie back on the bed, Stiles more shaken than Peter, but it’s a deep, sated feeling beneath it. Stiles knows that drop of adrenaline well, but it’s never felt more rewarding. Peter reaches out, holding Stiles’ hand with his own, and Stiles looks down at the sun and the moon side by side, perfectly complementing one another.


End file.
